Scrambled Scribblings
by The Chainsaw Juliet
Summary: Prompted drabbles; Reaper-centric. Latest: 'Punishment' & 'Undertaker'
1. That girl from General Affairs

Prompt: 'Snow' & 'Ronald Knox'

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><p><strong>That Girl from General Affairs<strong>

She was wearing white when he met her, that girl from General Affairs. It was precisely 7:39 in the morning, so his brand new wrist timepiece told him, when he spotted her as he headed back from a Retrieval. A halo of fluffy white fur framed her face, her nose a little too pink and her lips a little too violet and her cheeks just the right amount of rosy-red.

She was dressed in heavy velvet, the snow touching her hem and making her boots disappear as she stood in front of a shoe store. He paused by her side.  
>"Hi." He greeted, unable to think of something smooth and charming to say so early in the morning.<br>"Hello." She returned, offering a smile that made his face feel awfully warm. "Are they not the most outrageous things you've ever seen?" She gestured at the window display, tapping on the glass with her gloved finger. A pair of stark white Oxfords, with black soles and black lacing lay propped on display.  
>"They're pretty outrageous." He agreed. "Ronald Knox, by the way. New intern, in Spears' team. Are you with the Dispatch Division?"<br>"No, I'm in General Affairs." She gave him another smile and he was sure he was as red as Captain Sutcliff's brilliant hair.

"I never understood the reluctance of gentlemen to wear coloured shoes. Surely, wearing black means it is perfectly acceptable to wear its stark counterpart?" She pondered aloud, turning her attention back to the display.  
>"Food for thought." He shrugged, managing a grin to try and save his reputation as a suave young man.<br>"I happen to think white is very fetching on a gentleman." She sighed, admiring the shoes. "But I suppose it _does_ look a little silly if a gentleman is to wear all black with white shoes."  
>"They'd have to be gutsy." Ronald whistled low, scratching the back of his head.<br>"Brave and admirable." She added, before turning to drop into a curtsy. "It was nice meeting you, Agent Knox, but I best head off to my appointment."

He never did catch her name.

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><p>Five month later, as Ronald Knox walked into the office on his first day as a full-fledged Reaper, he wore stark white Oxfords on his feet.<p>

He didn't think he was a sentimental guy. That sounded too cheesy if he were to ever admit it and his Captain would probably use it to tease him. He didn't _think_ he was, but he _knew_ he was. Deep down. Years later, he still looked at his fanciful shoes and thought fondly of that lovely girl from General Affairs.


	2. Traditional Technology

Prompt: 'Technology' & 'William T. Spears'

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><p><strong>Traditional Technology<br>**

"Through our joint efforts with the Engineering Division and Information Technology Sector, we at Archives are now able to do our jobs far more efficiently."

Agent Spencer…Elderton, was it? One of the younger Reapers, William recalled, known for his hard work in both the mortal and Reaper realm.

"So what does it _do_, Agent Elderton?" He turned the tiny object over in his palm before picking it up carefully and holding it to the light.

"It is able to store thousands upon thousands of files without the need for physical books, sir." The young man beamed. William let the item drop onto the table.

"That is _disgusting._"


	3. Funny Coincidence

Prompts: 'Sweet' & 'William T. Spears'

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><p><strong>A Funny Coincidence<strong>

As expected, the home of Director William T. Spears was a modernist, minimalist creation with every article placing function before form. It was no surprise the youngest Reaper to ever assume the mantle of Director of the London Division lived in surroundings as orderly as his demeanour belied. He even possessed shelving that housed nothing but his tea collection in identical black tins with scripted labels.

Promotion after promotion soon meant he became a frequent traveller and on each of his frequent travels he would pick up a tea recommended by the locals. Dealings with the Oriental Divisions led to his tea collection broadening with rice teas and green teas, but he mostly favoured the flavoured ones that required milk. He wasn't too fond of sweets unless they came in the form of tea.

The sweetest tea in his possession was bought in Paris during a summit, upon the insistence of his French counterpart. Crème Brûlée, a French dessert, rarely interested him but he discovered it rather delightful when the flavours were converted into a black tea topped with milk.

He found himself reaching for it to finish pleasant days when the office ran smoothly and Grell Sutcliff actually turned her paperwork in on time. Or whenever Grell behaved and caused minimal fuss, bidding him goodnight with a smile. Or whenever Grell Sutcliff and he played piano after hours in the empty Recreation Room. Or whenever Grell Sutcliff returned from a late retrieval and gifted him with pastries from Ladurée at Harrods. Or times like today, when he drove her home and she squeezed his hand, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek in gratitude after walking her to her door.

It was mildly startling to realize he only reached for the sweet tea whenever he thought of Grell. He poured himself a cup of crème brûlée and brushed it off as coincidence.


	4. Language Nuances

Prompts: 'Accent' & 'Eric Slingby'

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><p><strong>Language Nuances<br>**

"Message to Alan"

_"What do you want to say to Alan?"_

"Alan it's me, I'm gunna be late so don' wait up fer me. Ron and I are back from the last Retrieval but we're a mess so we're showerin' and changin' before we clock off. I swear the snow was so deep it was up to my oxters so I hivnae a scooby abou' when I'll be outta here. Be home as soon as I can."

_"…One second."_

"…"

_"Alan it's me, I'm gun be late so doing weights furry. Running eyes back from the last interval but where Amish so we're showing and changing before we clocked. Elsewhere the snow was steeped it was up to my otters so I hive a scuba when I'll be out here. Be home ascend as I can."_

"…"

"…How about I send the message, Eric?"


	5. Perseverance

Prompts: 'Lonely' & 'Grell Sutcliff' for TheAUWalker

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><p><strong>Perseverance<strong>

"He didn't notice, Madam," Grell lamented, temple resting against the cold gravestone, "not even when he packed up at the end of the day."

"I didn't really think he would, and you know how he is." She sighed, hugging her knees tighter to warm an ache in her chest she could never banish when she thought of him. "All work and no play."

She toyed with the petals on the roses she had brought for her Beloved's grave. "I won't give up, of course, but it's awfully taxing when he doesn't notice how much I try. Doesn't notice, or...perhaps doesn't even care." Grell swallowed a lump in her throat.

"It's lonely, Madam. Terribly lonely and sad when I'm chasing the man I love and nothing comes of it for decades." Why had her vision blurred so suddenly? She mustered her best smile despite the strain on her cheeks and the crease of her brows.

"Oh well. I guess I'll try again tomorrow."


	6. Certainties

Prompts: 'Perfume' & 'William T. Spears'

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><p><strong>Certainties<strong>

He did not like being caught off guard. Certainty was something he admired and sought to achieve in all aspects of his life. He had a stable job because mortals would continue dying. A certainty. He commanded the London Division, an admirable position for a Reaper. A certainty. He had a Georgian Townhouse with competent staff. A certainty.

Despite the certainties in his life, William found one aspect of his life still had the power to catch him off guard. Grell Sutcliff. _Grell. Sutcliff_.

He had never thought a Reaper could return from a Retrieval _dripping_ in blood. Grell Sutcliff had done so- more than once. He had never thought a Reaper could continuously disobey orders and still remain employed. Grell Sutcliff was still _alive_ despite all that.

Grell Sutcliff with her long red hair swept high up off her nape and the expanse of buttermilk skin exposed due to the cleverly cut backless velvet gown. And the scent, oh lord, the _scent_ she wore.

He had never thought something so simple, so subtle could catch him off guard and make his knees weak. It was warm and powder soft, nothing like the cloying roses she wore everyday to work. No, this was something sweet and maddeningly so. Lilies, he thought. Calla lilies with a hint of vanilla and perhaps honey and certainly cinnamon because the heady cinnamon made the innocent scent not-so-innocent and perfectly _Grell_ and he had to swallow thickly and hope his brow wasn't _actually _dotted with the sweat he felt it was.

Closing his eyes only made it much worse, he noted, because somehow the scent was stronger and she had only brushed past him but her perfume was still right there with him and he was certain, yes _certain_, his heart had never beat so fast.


	7. Fondness

Prompts: 'Puppy' & 'Grell Sutcliff'

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><p><strong>Fondness<strong>

She had found the puppy on her doorstep, yet_ again_, sopping wet and looking pitifully miserable. With a sigh she stood aside and gestured for the poor thing to enter, pouncing him with towels and ushering him before the fire place so he could warm up.

Honestly, this was happening too often now and Grell had half a mind to tell the pup just how lucky he was that she was such a lady who would never turn away a creature in need.

The pup stayed mercifully silent, every now and then glancing at her with guilty eyes. She returned to her chaise, her wine and her novel, satisfied he would dry by the fire. The crackling of burning wood and the soft strains of _Carmen_ on lowered volume negated the silence.

A half hour passed before the pup shifted, shedding the towels before hopping up onto the chaise. He lowered his head on her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. She mussed his damp blonde hair and sighed.

"Ronnie you're going to be the death of me, _honestly_."


	8. Disciplinary Actions

Prompts: 'Punishment' & 'Undertaker'

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><p><strong>Disciplinary Actions<br>**

Another round of loud cursing, the clatter of surgical steel against clinical tile loud enough to stand against the two voices echoing in the cold room.

"_What the hell are you holding?" A female voice._

"_Fucking **lungs**!" A male voice._

"_Oh fuck, I've got **kidneys** in my hands, Ron! Kidneys!" A wail and a wet plop as the organs were deposited on digital weighing scales. _

"_Hurry up! Write down their weight so I can get these fucking lungs off my hands ohgodtheysmell- I- I swear I'm going to hurl again-"_

"_Don't you dare, Ron! Here, quick! Put them on the scales!"_

The Knox 'siblings', Ronald and Elena, were attached to him for a week as part of their disciplinary service. The Undertaker sighed, shaking his head as he tried to drown out their shouting. A most difficult task since the cloistered morgue amplified even the softest of sounds. He tisked, continuing to suture the butterfly cut on his latest cadaver.

"I do apologize for the noise. I'm almost finished stitching you up and then we'll make you nice and rosy for your eternal sleep, little doll."

The sound of something heavy and wet slapping against the tiles, a shrill shriek follows.

"_Ron you dropped it! You dropped it! Oh my fucking god, Ron I-"_

"I don't know who's being punished here." Artemis, his golden-eyed white-haired apprentice, wondered aloud as she placed a tray of mortician's cosmetics within his reach. "Them, or us?"


End file.
